


All the Boys

by smolonde



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Character Study, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-07 01:04:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4243605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolonde/pseuds/smolonde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porrim Maryam's story told through song lyrics (All the Boys- Panic! at The Disco)</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Boys

_She don’t leave makeup after her kiss_

_All the boys at night think that she’s theirs_  
  


Porrim Maryam has everybody wrapped around her lithe fingers, wiggling them around like tiny marionettes. Yet somehow, everyone seems to think that she belongs to them. It was the same from her red fling with Aranea to her caliginous flirtation with Latula; everyone lumped them together. Aranea and Porrim; Latula and Porrim; never just Porrim. Breaking hearts isn’t her business; no, she prefers to leave that to other, less experienced trolls. She simply flits from one romance to another, preferring to be her own. Just Porrim; no one else tacked on to the name. They still believe that she belongs to whoever her latest lover is, but Porrim knows otherwise.  


_All the secrets that you keep_

_Might get spoken while you sleep_  
  


If nothing else, Porrim is seen as a mother. She is a nurturing, caring troll, so different from her friends. And maybe that’s why they feel so comfortable spilling their emotions onto her; they know that she will listen and care. The jade-blooded matriarch, Kankri loves to say, on the rare occasion that he isn’t making some sort of jibe at her sexuality and her exploits. A mother loves all her children equally, though, and for Porrim, that isn’t true. She invests her time in one son, one who never appreciates any of her help or comfort. Porrim doesn’t mind; isn’t that what being a mother is all about? Dedication to someone who needs you, even if they’re insufferable sometimes.  


_And all the boys and I love her madly_

_All the boys and I, all the girls and I too_  
  


She’s not the one who seeks out comfort in sex; they come flocking to her, begging. _Porrim, I’m feeling down._ _Porrim, just one time._ She never turns anyone down, reaping pleasure and taking pride in it. The others are left to consider just what they want from her. Is it pleasure? Is it comfort? Or is it something else entirely? Regardless, Porrim isn’t going to waste time helping them think about it. The fact remains, they’re going to continue to seek her out, because their desperation always gets the better of them. And maybe Porrim enjoys their reek of sadness a little too much.  


_Picture girls we want so badly_

_Isn’t she a dream come true_  
  


She does know that some of them come to her, using her to forget. The night Cronus came to her, whispering that he needed to erase the fish girl from his system, not even bothering to hide his motive. And she complied, letting him take her. When Mituna fried his brains, Latula almost tore her door down with a desperate request for a caliginous escape. Porrim nodded calmly, guided Latula’s hands across her skin, made her forget for a night. Of course, these cases are angry when morning comes and everything is back to normal; Cronus’s desperation for Meenah consuming him anew, Latula’s regret and guilt at not being able to save Mituna returning. And from this anger, hate is birthed, words being tossed at her. _Harlot. Slut. Whore._ Porrim bears these insults with grace, pretending that the words don’t rip her apart inside, that she simply doesn’t care. And everyone is fooled, and everyone keeps spitting those syllables her way.  


_Closer now, and closer still_

_Get closer to her ‘til she knows you’re there_  
  


Her eyes, once luminous and lively, are now just a husk. She still walks like Porrim, with a confident, hippy stride; she talks like Porrim, with passion and fervor; but she’s dead, and she feels it. She throws herself into sex even more violently, trying to drown out the emptiness that haunts her every movement. Yet somehow, when she collapses on her back, the rush leaving her body, she’s in the exact same situation.  


_She came here to entertain you_

_You’ll fall hard into her charm_  
  


Had the Alternian culling system been in effect on Beforus, Porrim would not have a problem finding a pailing partner. Sometimes, she really wishes it was that easy. A matesprit, a kismesis, an auspistice, and a moirail; so much easier than the constant rotations that she goes through in death. Never a solid relationship, never one that means anything. If you asked her, though, she’d say that a commitment is the last thing she wants, and that’s the real truth. Honestly, Alternia’s system would likely crush her spirit. No mothering, no nurture, not being able to protect others without it being called infidelity. Porrim Maryam lives to be a mother, and when she can’t provide love, she’ll provide the next best thing. And that’s what she continues to be. A walking source of fun, an outlet for fury and frustration. In her book, that’s far better than any commitment.


End file.
